


Sorry Not Sorry

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Peter Parker runs a really popular Iron Man fan account on Twitter. One fine day, he accidentally posts a photo meant for that fan account on his official Spider-Man Twitter, instead.It's honestly a little bit of plot, some feelings, and a whole lot of gratuitous smut - all the best things the Starker way.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 267





	Sorry Not Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! 
> 
> I found this prompt on tumblr - so special shoutout to daddystarker over there. The images were instant inspiration! 
> 
> This is just an excuse to write Starker smut - I'm not very sorry about that, either. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Getting home from class, Peter pulled his laptop out – a saucy smile on his face. MJ, the absolute perfect wingman, sent him the first sneak leaked from Tony’s latest Iron Man photoshoot with TIME Magazine during the last ten minutes of his Biophysics lecture and it took everything in him not to ditch the rest of his professor’s oh so exciting set of PowerPoint slides to rub one out in the bathroom. Swinging home with a hard-on tucked into his pants wasn’t exactly the definition of a good time. Dr. Simms had the greatest timing, though – the mention of a quiz during the next class saving Peter from having to embarrassingly excuse himself. Tucking his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, Pete forced himself to focus and get through the rest of class. He only needed to make it five more minutes – then he could swing as fast as momentum could carry him back to his small studio apartment where privacy was the name of the game.

His skin already felt flushed from the brief glance he allowed himself before pocketing his phone. The few minutes it took him to stealthily get to the roof, get his mask on, and web home from NYU’s notorious physics building felt like torture. More than once he mistimed his swings and had to accommodate with a well-aimed strand against a lower building or lamppost. Settling on the ground a couple blocks from his building, Peter used the last few steps to collect himself – to get in the zone and pull his fanboy pants on once again. The ability to see Iron Man in the flesh was a thrill – Peter as Spider-Man earned the man’s respect long ago. Yet, there was nothing like the secret fantasies he’d been harboring over the last few years as Peter Parker himself, a simple 20-year-old with a good old-fashioned boner for the beautiful man behind the brilliance that was Ironman.

With the laptop sitting on his legs, Peter started his ritualistic perusal of all the emails and forums. Since he’d been running an Ironman fan account for years, he got pretty exclusive access to new material courtesy of the connections he’d made freaking the fuck out about all things Iron Man and Tony Stark. Like so many times, his inbox was filled with links to Tumblr posts already putting the images into eloquent image collections – each one he scrolled by showing that patented Tony Stark sexiness.

This particular shoot made Tony look raw – the use of black and white enhancing the man’s natural ruggedness that made him so damn irresistible. One in particular stood out in each set – his heart pounding hard when he finally decided to click on it. They were obviously in the lab – the place not only cool but insanely aesthetically pleasing and recognizable. Tony’s shirt was of a lighter material, the shadow behind him enhancing the glow from the arc reactor that could be seen through the shirt. Though the image didn’t have any color in it, Tony’s chest illuminated life – the pulse of the arc reactor something that was hard to ignore. The Iron Man helmet was tucked carelessly under his arm – a faraway expression on the older man’s face. Whoever the photographer was got so many bonus points for the a-plus framing – the whole image was absolutely stunning. Without much thought, Peter clicked the little hearts on each post, his fingers carelessly reblogging the sets he liked the best and saving the rest for later. What fucking right did Tony have being that goddamn stunning?

He managed to find a singular still of his favorite photo to save to his phone, the image immediately going into a Twitter post with a typical ‘I’d let him fuck me’ caption. Most of his followers weren’t on yet, so he saved the post for later – not noticing the fact that he didn’t change the profile he saved the draft to. He could already see the threads, the excitement and wet seats from the beauty of these photos, the comments and retweets that would keep his phone blowing up for hours. For some reason, the action on his I Heart Iron Man account was way more important than anything that happened on the official Spider-Man account. That one was heavily monitored by one Pepper Potts and he rarely got any creative freedom when it came to the things he was able to post for the world to see. He usually received an email with a photo attached and a pre-planned caption – one that was both politically correct and wholesome enough to keep his friendly neighborhood superhero persona alive and well. He understood the necessity – the current age of social media was like the jungle and a single mistake could take down an entire pride. Being attached to The Avengers came with a bit of added pressure – but he listened and did what he was told – Spider-man was a good boy.

Peter Parker on the other hand, well, he’d been cooped up behind the mask for too long – and stuck in a lab with the single hottest human on the planet, of course. Upon being discovered by the man a little after his eighteenth birthday, Peter and Tony fell into an easy camaraderie. The older man appreciated his brain and recklessness – though he’d never admit to the latter. Working together through his internship with Stark Industries got him a little closer to the actual man himself – and Peter liked everything about him. His brilliance felt tangible – Peter able to feel Tony’s thought process when they were pushed up against one of the lab tables together, the web fluid code spread out on the holoscreen in front of them.

When he got an idea about something, Tony couldn’t be stop, slowed down, or deterred from the course. Many times, Peter watched Tony go from a raw idea to a solved puzzle in the matter of a couple of facial expressions. It made Peter want to clap his hands in excitement and pull the man flush against him all in one breath. He didn’t take into account, when he started getting to spend time with both Tony and Iron Man, that the difference between the two would soon be hard to discriminate – and his attraction became twofold.

Since getting to know the man behind the mask, Peter thought about putting his Iron Man fan account to rest a few times. Tony Stark, who Peter knew considered him a friend, deserved a lot more than the ‘fuck me, Tony’ memes he’d been known to create in his spare time long before he knew anything other than a schoolboy fantasy. Twitter told him just the other day that his account celebrated its fifth birthday – an accomplishment in and of itself in this day and age. The couple times he came close to finally getting rid of it, he found himself scrolling through the many, many – way too many posts he’d made over the years – inevitability unable to pull the trigger and actually delete the account. He figured, since the images could still pull such a reaction out of himself and others like him, well – what could it possibly hurt?

In all his time as the moderator of the fan account, he never once gave himself away. Despite all of the people wanting to be friends and meet in person – Peter managed to keep his identity and the anonymity of the account secure. Mainly because the only personal opinion he ever let anyone see was the one that said, ‘I want Tony Stark to top me & I don’t care who knows it!’ At the end of the day, that singular idea seemed to be more than enough for most people scrolling through his content. There were so many things he juggled on a daily basis – he couldn’t imagine what being caught out worshipping the man he’d come to really know and appreciate would be like.

Over the past couple of years, Peter tried his best to gain the respect of all of The Avengers. Despite being eighteen and technically an adult when he joined them, each member looked at him like a kid, or their younger brother they needed to protect. Little by little, he felt the acceptance from most of the group – Steve and Bruce were surprisingly in his corner relatively fast. The one person he craved to be seen for the man he was couldn’t decide how he felt on the matter. Tony could be so carefree, especially when they were in the lab together or joking around after a particularly good patrol. Tony could also be very protective and turn on ‘dad-mode’ just as easy. A part of Peter wanted to believe the other man cared for him so much that his protective nature couldn’t be helped. Though, the man was Iron Man – he spent his life getting into situations to protect other people. Whatever the deal was, Peter didn’t really know where he (not Spider-Man, the heroes were too close knit after so many battles together) stood with Tony Stark – so pining from a distance would have to do.

All of the excitement of freaking out with all of his fellow Iron Man fans made it easy to neglect the time. Glad for once that he listened to his instinct and didn’t decided to rub one out in the NYU bathrooms, Peter took his time enjoying each and every one of the photographs. Most afternoons left a little bit of time between coming home from class and heading to SI – a time in which Peter usually did the little bit of homework he usually had. Today, his routine went out the window the second he got his laptop open and the images on the screen. It didn’t make sense – how much attention the photos were getting from him. As he clicked through each one, he felt more and more – arousal at first, then something… different.

For whatever reason, this spread decided to highlight the man in the mask without the mask on – like the world needed more gratuitous pictures of the gorgeous Tony Stark (okay, it did – it really fucking did.) The lack of a full connection to Iron Man in the photos made Peter really think about how much of Tony Stark actually went into the superhero. Spider-Man was Peter’s alter ego – the mask kept him safe and allowed him to face recklessness head-on without a second thought. The principles that guided Spider-Man very much belonged to Peter Parker – but the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was an entity of its own. The more Pete thought about the differences between Iron Man and Tony Stark – there weren’t many that didn’t have to do with the abilities of the suit. When the mask came off, Tony didn’t stop being Iron Man. It only took two years of getting to know the man to truly understand.

The haze of his realization and the fog of arousal that’d been collecting in the room slowly pulled Peter under – he let his left hand move away from the computer screen, his fingers skating across the fabric of his shirt until they settled on the button of his jeans. It didn’t take much to get the button undone, the zipper coming down easily a couple of seconds later. A soft sigh left his lips when the pressure he’d been staving off finally let up a little – his cock finally able to breath for the first time since leaving class. For a few minutes, he let himself continue to tease the tips of his fingers over the bulge that pressed so nicely against the front of his black Calvin Klein’s. Flipping through the photos a couple more times, Peter found a set of his favorite picture in a couple different tones – the heat he felt making him fist his cock, the material of his briefs already wet and humid. He let a soft moan leave his lips – the younger man finally letting his fingertips trail under the waistband, the skin-on-skin contact almost too good.

He clicked on the last of the photos in the set, Peter still hung up on the original – the black and white something he never knew he needed in a photo. The way Tony looked in it, Peter could almost imagine that same stare when he looked up and caught the older man looking his way. That thought sent a rush of heat to his middle – the precum pooling in his boxers starting to saturate the material, his cock literally dripping. He couldn’t resist wrapping his fingers around the head, the pad of his thumb smearing the liquid around.

It didn’t take long to imagine the look in Tony’s eyes actually being directed at him, the faraway look replaced with one of hunger and desire. Tony wouldn’t be shy about the way he wanted, either. Peter could only imagine how he’d pull his smaller body flush against his own – taking control of the situation without a second thought. He spent a lot of time thinking about how Tony would kiss, the man was so talented at everything – it would only make sense that Tony Stark was a world class kisser, too. When kissing became too much, he thought about the older man wiping all of the things off the desk behind them, picking Peter up, and having his wicked way with him on the flat surface. Oh, to feel the heavy press of Tony’s chest against his own.

The apex of the coiled heat in his stomach quickly approached – the Tony and Peter of his fantasy were sans clothes and happily rutting together on the table. The heavy drag of the older man’s cock would be overwhelming – each pass of the skin of it against Peter’s own trigger-happy dick bringing him closer and closer to the edge. A hitch in his breath brought Peter out of the fantasy, brown eyes watching as his own hand moved under the tent of his briefs. His skin felt like it was on fire, the heat inside him consuming every nerve ending before finally settling in the depths of his balls – the swell of it boiling over and bringing Peter along with it. He kept a slow rhythm going until the oversensitivity became too much. The spidey senses were a hell of a thing when it came to stimulation – many times overwhelming him from all angles. Coming down, Peter pulled his hand out of his pants, the stickiness making him chuckle. Only Peter would jerk off in the comfortability of his own home without getting out of his pants – at least he did his own laundry now.

It didn’t take long to get cleaned up, a quick wipe of his soiled briefs and a change of pants had him ready again in no time. Which ended up being a good thing – when he came out to check his phone, he noticed several text notifications and a missed call from Tony. His eyes bugged when he saw the time – he was hella late. So late, in fact, that he was surprised Iron Man himself wasn’t banging at his window. Sucking in a breath, Peter unlocked his phone to call Tony back, although, he didn’t get very far – Tony’s name popped up before he could get the app up. He swiped his thumb to answer the call, getting it before the first ring could finish.

“Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry. Time got away from me – I’m on my way, now,” Peter got out, the words immediately coming out of his mouth before Tony could get a word in edgewise. He inadvertently worried the man, the sheer amount of texts and calls showing that. The least he could do was be gracious and get his ass to work as fast as he possibly could. Pete heard Tony let out a sigh on the other end of the line – the older man obviously more relieved than mad.

“Fuck, Pete – I got a little worried when you didn’t show up. I asked Friday to check in with Karen – but you weren’t wearing the suit, either. I don’t want to tell you how close I came to putting on my suit to come find you,” Tony tried to keep his tone light, though his words spoke louder than any feigned nonchalance could. “Glad you’re safe, kid,” Tony said, the words completely genuine.

“I’m okay – sorry I worried you, Tony.” Peter smiled at his own words, then quickly disconnected the call with another promise to be there soon and get there safely.

Peter couldn’t keep the grin off his face when he thought about how well he actually knew Tony Stark. He knew the other wasn’t far from using the suit to make sure he was okay or find him if the case called for it. Though, the fact that he spent all that time fantasizing and getting off to the other man’s photos remained – so the joy of the feeling wasn’t… entirely pure. Shaking his head, Peter got himself into gear – his feet carrying him around the room at a record pace. The walk to the roof was quick, his energy renewed now that he’d handled the burn eating him up since Biophysics earlier and he was about to spend the next however many hours elbows deep in nanotech goodness with a person that was quickly becoming his favorite. Before pulling the mask on, Peter pulled his phone out and shot Tony a text.

 **Peter Parker [6:30PM]** : Swinging your way.

 **Peter Parker [6:30PM]** : See you soon, Tony.

He smiled at the use of Mr. Stark’s name and let the joy from before settle in again – he felt good and intended to enjoy it. Clearing out his programs, Peter noticed he left the post from before sitting in his drafts. That wouldn’t do – especially since the world deserved to see the sexiness that was Tony Stark as Iron Man. And the world expected I Heart Iron Man to comment on something this monumental. He absentmindedly pulled the draft up and posted it – the younger man not bothering to make sure he posted to the right account. Pulling on his mask, Peter grinned to himself and started to run, his feet carrying him at a high speed off the edge of the roof and into a flawless swing – that was always the best part.

\---- 

It felt invigorating, flowing from web to web throughout the gorgeous backdrop that was New York City. Before being discovered by Tony and later invited to join The Avengers, Pete spent many nights simply enjoying the fact that he could see the city from this perspective. Between battling muggers and making sure innocent people remained safe – Peter’s work was cut out for him, and the simple moments were really what made it worth it. He didn’t speed through his city swing the same way he did earlier that day, that burning desire simmering in the pit of his stomach right now, the need not burning hot and pulsing like earlier. Eventually, Peter landed on the landing port on top of Stark’s building – a soft sigh leaving his lips when his feet settled against the hard surface of the flattop. It took him a second to get his equilibrium back, the boy slightly dizzy for a few moments after stopping the gravity defying movements. He took his mask off then, now steady feet carrying him to the door of the elevator – the penthouse a couple seconds ride away.

Before he could get his hand on the button, Friday’s voice came out of nowhere. “Peter, you might want to move a little quicker. Something happened,” Friday said, the words making Pete’s heart beat a little faster. It didn’t take him that long to get from lower Queens to Stark Tower – he made the swing every day and almost always got it done in a few minutes. There hadn’t been anything noticeable in the sky and he didn’t see any alien technology trying to infiltrate their atmosphere.

His eyebrows furrowed as he got into the elevator, the door obviously being opened by Friday - the AI smarter than her own good sometimes. “What’s up, Friday? I didn’t see anything when I was out over the city – I know I would’ve at least noticed trouble.” Peter spoke with curiosity in his voice, the idea of missing something big driving hm a little crazy.

“For once, the country is safe, Peter. Have you looked at your phone lately? It seems like something got out that shouldn’t have,” Friday’s voice was matter-fact, but Peter knew if she could, a chuckle would’ve accompanied those words.

Without another thought, Peter pulled his phone from the pocket of his backpack he kept it in when he was otherwise occupied doing Spider-Man things. Clicking the button on the side, his eyes bulged when he saw the massive amount of notifications blowing up his phone. He didn’t understand what happened right away – his eyes catching all the likes and retweets of his latest tweet – but then, holy shit – the tweet being retweeted came from his Spider-Man account and not the fan account. “Holy shit. Friday, how many people have seen this? And Mr. Stark – did he –?” Peter felt like the elevator was closing in him – the ride taking way longer than it normally did.

“Mr. Stark gets an alert when any of The Avengers send out a tweet,” Friday answered him truthfully. Peter already knew that – he’d given the older man shit about how close of an eye he kept on them all more than once over their time together. Sometimes jokingly, and sometimes with a malice that only a 20-year-old can bring. The elevator finally settled and for once in his entire life – Peter wasn’t ready for whatever waited for him on the other side of the sliding doors.

Not being prepared was an understatement. There were three bodies waiting for him the second he got off the elevator; Pepper, who looked absolutely appalled, Steve, who had the slightest bit of laughter in his eyes, despite the seriousness of his face – and Tony, who’s expression was the most unreadable. His gut clenched tightly when he took a step closer, all eyes on him.

“I can explain – “ Peter started, but his words were immediately cut off.

“Peter, this is the dumbest thing you could have done! I knew I shouldn’t have given you access to the official Twitter.” Pepper’s words cut, each one swiping salt into a wound that was slowly opening, the blood seeping from the gash little by little. “You need to delete it – now!” Her eyes flashed at that, the seriousness of the situation not really hitting him until that very moment. The tone of her voice was like Aunt May after he came home with a black eye, though the underlying worry did not exist in this lecture.

Peter didn’t hesitate – the phone was still gripped tightly in his fist from the initial humiliation that hit him in the elevator. Nimble fingers worked over the screen until Twitter was up and the tweet was gone – though millions of people already saw it if the traffic on it was anything to go by. Slamming his eyes shut before looking up at the people in front of him, Peter felt a wash of shame slip over him – how in the world did he look Tony Stark in the eyes now that he’d carelessly revealed himself to the other man. And the way he did it – the comment on that photo did not do his true feelings justice. What a fucking idiot, Peter thought – his hands clenching into fists once his phone was deposited back into his pocket. “I’m so fucking sorry,” Peter finally managed to get out, his head titling up until he could look at them. He avoided Tony’s eyes, though – the embarrassment too real and in his face at the moment.

“We’ll discuss this at a later date. Until then, please don’t post on Twitter at all. I need to go and do some damage control,” Pepper spoke with finality, the arms crossed over her chest relaxing as she started to walk away. “If you’ll excuse me, fellas.” Her heel clicks sounded louder than they’d ever been, each one reverberating around the penthouse – the feeling she left behind like final nails in a coffin.

His cheeks still flaming, Peter looked over to Cap – the older man’s arms crossed much like Pepper’s, though the amusement in his eyes hadn’t left. In fact, Steve looked like he wanted to laugh in Peter’s face – the immensity of the situation not lost on the hero. “I don’t even know why I’m here, honestly. I think I wanted to see your face in person. We’ll meet as a group about this some other time – talk about how this might affect the dynamic of the collective,” Steve said, his words sure, the tempo and tone of his voice very much like normal. “Until then, I’ll leave you two be.” The blonde threw a look in Tony’s direction, then followed Pepper’s steps out – a hand landing on Peter’s shoulder for a quick second when the older man passed.

All at once, Peter found himself alone with Tony – the other man’s face still unreadable. Peter didn’t know what to say, the younger man hoping for once that Tony flew off the handle and lectured him. Anything was better than the expression on the older man’s face. “Tony, I – “ Peter still didn’t know what to say, his heart was beating so fast and the entire situation was stupidly overwhelming. He almost wished he could turn and run away, follow Steve’s footsteps and retreat into the elevator – the call of his studio apartment was much louder than normal. Instead of standing there, Peter moved a little farther into the apartment. His feet knew the path so well now – he’d spent more than enough time exploring the marble floored hallways, the rooms with their huge beds and even bigger screens on the wall, the lab and all of its techie glory. Over the past couple of years, this place became home. Hopefully his dumb ass libido didn’t lose that for him – he didn’t really know what he’d do with himself if he suddenly lost The Avengers, Tony, and the place he felt the most comfortable in one fell swoop.

His hands skimmed across the leather of the couch he sat in just the day before – the sounds of The Walking Dead playing in his ears at the memory. After getting done in the lab for the night, Tony nodded towards the couch – the older man obviously not ready for their time to end yet. In the recent weeks, Peter noticed their time in the lab always ended outside of the lab – whether they ate takeout and watched tv or played chess on the really cool black and white checkered board, there was always a bit of time spent outside of the lab. Last night, Tony puttered around the kitchen while Peter got settled on the couch – his brief conversation with Friday getting the series pulled up and their current episode onto the screen. A comfortable silence fell over them when Tony brought plates of fresh eggs and bacon over – both men always ravenous after their time in the lab. That time was so easy and now seemed like a lifetime ago. What good could possibly come from this? Peter hadn’t really thought about what would happen if Mr. Stark found out about the crazy obsession he let play out through a twitter feed.

Though the word obsession seemed a little heavy. When he first started following Iron Man, it was with rapt attention and idolization. He could still remember the first time he saw the hero on TV – the way his heart kind of beat in a way he’d never experienced before, and his palms got a little sweaty. He liked what the name Ironman represented. Then, well – a sexual awakening came not long after that and Iron Man seemed to be the fuel to that fire. For a couple of years, Peter felt himself falling for the illusion of what Iron Man represented. When he actually met the man, the hunger for Iron Man didn’t relinquish, not really – instead, it was replaced with what could only now be called actual feelings. Getting to know Tony made it impossible for him to not be totally in love with everything about him. The fact that he was Ironman only enhancing the deal that much more. He could have easily copped to an obsession a few years ago, but now – well, his keen eye noticed the attraction and the something else that came with it. Whether his friend decided to see it that way or not, Peter didn’t really know.

Footsteps coming closer to him brought Pete out of his memories, the firmness and cool feel of the couch still under his fingertips grounding him, keeping him in the moment now that he could see Tony in front of him. The older man stopped with a couple of feet between them, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “So, I guess we should talk, huh?” Tony asked, sarcasm in his voice evident – though the tone contained no malice, which was both interesting and insanely comforting all at once.

Peter watched as Tony walked around to the front of the couch and took a seat, his scar-specked hand patting the seat beside him until the younger man got the hint and joined him there. The couch was comfortable but, in that moment, Peter couldn’t find a place on the seat that felt right. Maybe that was the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin and run away – or maybe it was the guilt that sat steadily on his chest, pinning him uncomfortably to whatever spot he settled on. When he finally forced himself to stop wiggling, he noticed the miles of space between them. Just last night they sat shoulder to shoulder – the feeling something Peter didn’t realize he needed until right then.

His chest felt tight when he pulled in his next few breaths, nervousness running through him. In all 20 of his years, Peter couldn’t ever remember feeling this way. Apprehension, tension, embarrassment – and the worst of all, dread – crawled all over him like the spider that bit him to give him the powers he now wielded so expertly. “Tony, I really am sorry. I never – uh, I never meant for you to even… find out,” Peter started, the younger man not able to exist in the silence that settled between them any longer. Tony turned slightly, his left hip and side pressing against the couch so he could see Peter a little better. He seemed to be paying attention but made no move to contribute to the conversation. His eyes were cloudy, and his expression still sat neutral – the man a pro at poker faces and composure.

“This is pretty embarrassing, but I’ve obviously had a thing for you for a long time. More so now than ever before – and it’s different – but its been there and I’m just really fucking sorry.” Peter felt a little desperate with the last couple of words coming out of his mouth. The weight of how Tony reacted next pressed on him – each pound tangible in the tightness in his chest. Until that moment, they hadn’t made any direct eye contact – Peter avoiding it like the plague. Yet, for some insane reason, he felt a little better when their eyes finally did lock.

Tony’s posture relaxed even further, a hand coming up to scratch at the salt and pepper hairs on the tip of his chin – the gesture one Peter knew to be a nervous tick Tony probably didn’t know he partook in. “I can’t say this was the best way for anything like this to come out. Pete – Friday managed to find the account you were trying to post to.” Peter sucked in a gasp, his face coloring to personify the flames that swooped over and engulfed him. How fucking great.

Tony wasn’t finished it seemed, the older man grabbing his own phone – thrusting it into Peter’s hands. Pete didn’t need to look down to see what was on the screen. He remembered each of the first five posts that were visible and hoped the world would swallow him whole. What a way to come out not only to the world, but to the object of his desire, too. “At least you have good taste,” Tony mumbled, the phone settling on the couch between them – the screen still bright, the most recent meme staring back at them both.

Peter still didn’t know what to say – what the hell could he say in a situation like this? Sorry spilled from his lips more times than he cared to think about. Aside from the humiliation, Peter felt a little curious about the calmness of Tony’s reaction. The older man had every right to be fuming – and in any other situation, he probably would have. Tony didn’t balk at opportunities to make his opinion known or tell someone else the way it truly was. The silence was broken when Tony spoke again – “Is the stuff you said true? Is that what you want from me? A little romp in the sheets with your fantasy?” The question was unexpected and totally knocked Peter off balance. It almost seemed like Tony was teasing him, but the sincerity of the question remained – Tony wanted to know.

“Yes – but also no. Iron Man was the dream. The thought that guided me through being a teenager and figuring out without much warning that girls were not on the menu. It felt good to experience excitement with other people about someone I – y’know, wanted. Then I met you and the way we seem to click changed things. The time we spend together in the lab is amazing – you’re the smartest person that I’ll get to work beside. Don’t tell Dr. Banner, though. You talk all this talk and act like you don’t care – but I know that’s total bull shit. You’re a good guy, Tony – no matter how much you don’t want that to be the case. I guess the fantasy turned into something else. I want that, you – but not just that. Iron Man doesn’t come without Tony Stark for me anymore – not when Tony Stark is the best part of the package.” Peter didn’t let himself stop until all the words were out of his mouth – if this was it, he at least needed to walk away having put everything out on the table between them. Considering he didn’t have any intention of Tony ever finding out, his expectations were not high – but a boy could dream.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Peter looked up to see Tony staring at him – that same faraway look in his eyes like in the picture that got him in so much trouble to begin with. Pete could tell he was thinking, letting all of those words and what they meant process in the recesses of that big brain of his. Then, the hand moved to his cheek, the calloused fingers firm in their pressure against his skin. “You couldn’t just tell me? I know for a fact that a conversation like this could’ve saved a lot of people a lot of headache,” Tony’s voice was filled with humor, the words sounding different to Pete now that he could feel the heat of the other’s skin against his own. Tony shifted until they were close – the hand on his cheek sliding until it cupped the back of his neck. “Next time, just lay one on me or something, okay? No more of that crazy shit – if you’re posting pictures of me, it better be because you took it or we’re both in it.” Tony used the fingers on Peter’s neck to tilt his head until the younger man was looking at him square in the eye. Peter’s breath caught in his throat – the seconds passing by them at a glacial place. “The real thing is much better, anyway,” Tony finished, his lips quirking into a smirk that Peter couldn’t recall ever seeing before.

The distance was easy to close after that. Peter wanted to wipe the smirk off Tony’s face and feel what it felt like against his lips all at once. The heat on his neck from Tony’s fingers was starting to radiate down his back – the tendrils moving until they settled deep into his core, this heat different, running a little hotter than what he felt earlier in the day. Tilting his head, Peter felt Tony adjust too until they were angled perfectly – their lips sealed together tightly. A tongue started to trace at the seam of Peter’s lips, the younger man granting it access immediately. In the time he spent fantasizing about one Tony Stark and all the kisses they’d shared in his mind, he never could have pegged this particular flavor or feeling. He could taste the smoke of the man’s favorite bourbon on the back of his tongue, Tony probably downing a couple glasses the second he got the notification just to soothe his nerves. The delicious flavor layered on top of the booze could only be the man himself – something that was simply Tony. His lips were soft and insistent, the facial hair above his lips exotic in the way it teased across the skin of Pete’s upper lip. Years of experience allowed Tony to explore his mouth seamlessly – and when they pulled back, the look of pure want on the other’s face was unmistakable.

Pete felt his chest heave, the lack of oxygen consuming for a moment while he stared at the man still pressed against him. His lips were tingling, the simple thought that Tony kissed him making his brain feel like putty. The reprieve didn’t last long, though – Tony pressed forward, this time with much less abandon and way more passion. The kiss stared hot and wet, both men passed the point of exploration. Peter felt Tony’s other hand start to drift down his chest until it settled on his hip, the other’s leverage being used to pull him even closer. Now that they were pressed flush against each other, Peter could really feel what was under the suit. His own hands moved restlessly, first taking in the skin of Tony’s cheeks, then down his shoulders and arms – the muscles there firm, not just from controlling the Ironman suit but also all the hours spent in the lab. The roughness of Tony’s fingertips against the skin of his neck spoke of a man that worked with his hands and so did the rest of him.

Peter copied Tony’s move and slipped his hand down the middle of the other’s chest – his palm stopping when he came into contact with the arc reactor. He kept his hand there, the warmth of the unit seeping into his palm – like he figured, it radiated life and energy, even if it wasn’t actually from the unit but the man himself. Pulling out of the kiss, Peter watched as he moved his fingers over the reactor through Tony’s shirt – the thickness of it stopping the glow from emanating, but Peter knew it was there, anyway. “It’s warm,” Peter murmured, his eyes slipping from the motion of his fingers up to catch Tony’s eyes – a hazy lust sat within them combining with something Peter didn’t recognize.

Tony stayed silent for a second, his puffing chest letting the reactor press more firmly into Pete’s hand with every inhale of breath. “Good, if it wasn’t – I wouldn’t be alive,” Tony said back in reply – the hand around Peter’s neck moving until he grasped the younger man’s wrist between his fingers. “It feels a little weird when it’s touched. Like, I can feel your fingers all over me, instead of just over the top of my shirt.” Tony pulled Peter’s hand to him, his lips pressing a kiss to each of the fingers and then his palm. “Want to move this elsewhere?”

The inability to speak had Peter getting up off the couch quickly – he couldn’t believe this was happening, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. He heard a chuckle leave Tony’s lips before the older man got from the couch and followed after Peter. His strong arm wrapped around Tony’s middle, Peter refusing to be parted from the other for too long. Though he never saw the room before, Peter knew exactly where he was headed. The door opened on its own accord; Friday’s technology really was amazing. The next thing Peter knew, Tony was pulling him close and pressing him against the door that was now shut. The older man’s lips were everywhere, the scruff of his goatee burning a path across the cheeks of his face, down his neck and across the bits of collar bone that were exposed under his shirt. Peter let a moan escape his lips, the attack on his skin intoxicating, each press of Tony’s lips or tug of his teeth made his skin prickle – the weight of the door pressing into his back even adding to the entire thing. His hands were uselessly tangled in the fabric of Tony’s shirt – his body under a trance from the bizarre situation and overwhelming stimuli.

Peter did not expect the next thing he saw to be Tony Stark on his knees in front of him, yet when he opened his eyes – the older man was there, his hands tracing over his flanks, lips mouthing over the obvious bulge in his too-tight pants. Then, hazy brown eyes were looking up at him, Tony’s hands catching up to the rest of him, those calloused fingers already working on the button and zip of his jeans. Tearing his glance away from Tony, Peter glanced further down to make sure he didn’t have any embarrassing boxers on, a soft breath of relief leaving his chest when he remembered the white Calvin’s he put on after getting himself cleaned up earlier.

The time for thinking was completely out the window when he felt a puff of air ghosting over the bulge pressing insistently against the front of his briefs. Tony’s hands were quick to pull his pants and briefs down, Peter clumsily kicking his shoes off to help with the process. His cock bobbed in front of the other man’s lips – Tony’s eyes glazing over further when he noticed the slick sitting on the tip of his dick. He was already leaking like crazy, his cock rock hard and balls drawn up against his skin. Tony looked up and caught Pete’s eye for a second before the younger man was nodding, answering the silent question without any hesitation.

The incredible heat surrounding him caught Peter off guard – his head smacking back against the door behind him from the intensity of it. The talented tongue pressed against the heavy vein on the underside of his cock and traced it – Peter moaning at the feeling of another drop of precum falling from the head of his dick. Tony moaned around him then, his fingers circling tightly at the end of Pete’s shaft to pump the last inch or two his mouth didn’t fit around. Between the drag of his tongue and the tight suction passing from the tip down to Tony’s fingers, Peter was a mess against the door in a couple of minutes. He tried to keep his hips from pressing forward, though he didn’t give a shit about his hand’s tightness in Tony’s hair – the other man seemed to enjoy it, anyway. Suddenly, Tony’s hands were gripping his hips, fingers digging into the skin and pressing – pressing until Peter could do nothing other than thrust forward. The need to cum flashed hotly across the front of Pete’s mind, his stomach tighter than tight – every single bit of him drawn up and ready to explode.

“Fuck – Tony, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” Peter babbled using the energy he had left to pick his head up off the door and look down at Tony. The older man didn’t let him go, in fact – those fingers tightened on his skin and his mouth moved until only the tip of his dick was in Tony’s mouth. One last hard suck and Pete was a goner – each pulse of release making him call out Tony’s name, his fingers probably brutal in the other’s hair where they gripped. Tony didn’t loosen his grip on his hips, instead using it to keep Peter upright when his knees threatened to buckle. “Holy fuck,” Peter moaned, one of his hands moving to grip tightly in his own hair – the pain of it keeping him grounded.

“Holy fuck is right. Get the rest of your clothes off, Pete. I can’t wait much longer to feel you against me,” Tony’s words were suddenly right by his ear – Peter’s eyes widening when he realized just how close the other man was pressed against him again. Tony palmed his dick, fingers tickling over the sensitive flesh teasingly – “you can go again, can’t you?” The question lingered there, Peter’s shit eating smirk answer enough for the both of them. The younger man quickly stripped, his shirt coming off over his head and then his socks – Peter so glad he didn’t notice before. Tony Stark sucked him off with his socks still on his feet – just like the noob he actually was. Peter practically jumped on the bed, his back settling against the softness of the sheets, the mattress beneath him one of the comfiest things he’d ever felt.

Peter didn’t spend much time thinking about the bed, though – his eyes were drawn to the older man starting the process of underdressing. Like any gentleman, he popped off the expensive watch from his wrist, the accessory finding its way to the proper place on the dresser he’d wandered over to. Next came the belt in his jeans, the leather making a ‘whoosh’ sound as each inch pulled from the loops. Pete felt his chest flushing, the heat in his core once again starting to bubble with arousal. Those talented fingers gripped the edge of Tony’s shirt, the older man slow with the job, the shirt moved inch by inch – each new flash of skin making Peter’s cheeks burn hotter and hotter.

What he assumed to be hard muscular arms were chiseled, the definition of the muscle something Peter assumed most people Tony’s age weren’t really able to accomplish. His stomach wasn’t nearly as cut up as Peter’s, but the thick line of hair that trailed down it more than made up for it. Peter’s fingers itched to get caught in the coarse hair there – to pull and tug until he could feel the warm skin underneath. The last and most painstaking piece of clothing to come off was the other’s jeans. He undid the button with just his thumb – the zip coming down on its own – the obvious bulge there much bigger and prominent than Pete’s. He stepped out of them first, each leg being removed, then folded into a neat little pile.

Only then did he let a teasing smirk slip across his lips – the older man’s hand cupping himself through his underwear as he took Peter in, dark eyes roaming. Peter watched Tony give himself a squeeze before slipping his fingers under the waistband of those sexy briefs and pull until they were falling down his hips and onto the floor. “Wow,” Peter muttered, the word coming out before he could stop it. Tony laughed; his head thrown back from the sheer joy of it.

“You’re one to talk, kid – damn, Pete,” Tony answered, the hand cupping himself now back giving his cock a few languid strokes. The whole show screamed dirty – the older man obviously okay with the fact that Peter thought so candidly about him. Tony was putting this on for Peter – each steady tug of his cock, the slow strip – even the amazing blowjob against the door.

Tony tortured Peter with the amazing view of the man stroking his cock for another couple of minutes. Peter taking the time to really look at the other man. His hands were speckled with white lines and severe scars, though they moved flawlessly over the warmed flesh of his own cock. His legs were long and lean – his thighs heavily muscled but not in a way that screamed ‘dumb meat head’. They were working man’s legs – and they helped carry the weight of the world on Tony’s shoulders. His chest was defined, though heavily scarred, too. The faint blue glow of the arc reactor added to the mood – Peter’s eyes selfishly settling on the incredible piece of tech for a moment or two longer than necessary. The man’s dick was long and thick – the appendage much heavier looking than his own. He could see the slightest hint of precum starting to collect on the head, Tony’s thumb moving over it to collect the fluid while he watched, using it to ease the glide of his fingers over the turgid flesh.

Pete chocked off a moan when Tony finally moved over to the bed and joined him, the older man pressing himself over Pete – the weight exactly what he dreamed it would be. The show was obviously over, Tony’s hunger tangible in a way it wasn’t just a minute ago when they were staring at each other across the room. He opened his legs and let Tony settle between them – the move bringing their cocks together. Pete’s hand slipped between them to wrap his fingers around them both – just to keep them sliding against one another, the younger man hungry for friction and heat. The moan he could feel come from the pit of Tony’s chest had him clenching his fingers, bringing them that much closer. Their hips swiveled and pumped together – the slickness drooling from Peter easing the slide in the most delicious of ways.

“I hope the fantasy of me topping you is still a thing. I need to fuck you so bad, Pete – I have not stopped thinking about it for ages now,” Tony mumbled against the side of Peter’s neck. Ages? Holy shit, Pete thought – his attraction wasn’t as one sided as he forced himself to believe all this time. That thought gave him renewed confidence and sent his mind spiraling in a million different directions.

“It is – it really, really is. Do you want me to tell you how I thought about you turning me onto my belly,” Peter thrust his hips up while he spoke – the slide still doing delicious things to his brain. “How you opened me up with just your tongue, then draped your weight over me and took what you wanted.” Tony’s hips were moving restlessly against his own – the older man’s pants and groans loud in his ear – the huff of his breath the only indicator for him to keep going. “Or do you want to hear about how I thought about sitting on your lap and riding your dick until I came a couple times across your chest – until I dragged an orgasm out of you with just the roll of my hips and squeeze of my ass?”

Peter watched as Tony threw his head back and moaned “fuck” – the man starting to lose what little bit of control he seemed to be grasping to.

“Fuck me, Tony – please, I want you to,” Peter finally panted out, his fingers squeezing their dicks once more before pulling his hand away, his fingers gripping onto Tony’s hip instead.

A hungry kiss was pressed into his lips, the slide of their tongues dirty and hot. Peter could feel the tiny thrusts against his stomach, the slick slide of a trail of precum that he didn’t know who it belonged to. He pulled away from the kiss – the need to breath overwhelming, his senses getting overloaded in the blink of an eye. Tony sat up a little, the older man taking the respite to stroke himself with one hand while the other reached into the bedside drawer – a victorious look on his face when he dropped the condom and lube on the sheets. He didn’t move to turn Peter over, so the younger man simply spread his legs wider – the indecent way he did it not lost on either of them. Tony heaved in a huge breath at the sight, his body moving on its own accord – the older man once again fitting snuggly between the v of his knees. A couple of kisses were peppered to the inside of his thigh, Tony distracting him from the sound of the lube cap being popped open and the feel of cold lube on his ass when he felt a finger pressing against his rim.

The moan that left him when Tony got the first finger in would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t match the grunt Tony didn’t bother holding back. The stretch was nice – the little bit of burn biting across his skin, making the entire situation feel much more tangible. The subtle pump of the digit felt amazing and then Tony skimmed his prostate and Peter saw stars. “Tony, fuck!” Peter gasped out; his hole clenching tight around Tony’s finger.

The older man looked up at him, the view he’d been staring at obviously too much. Though, Peter watched his eyes glaze further when he took in the view of Peter laid out before him – long limbs and soft skin sweat covered and ripe for the picking. A second finger quickly joined the first, Tony now intimate with his sweet spot and the precum that dribbled from Pete’s cock when he hit it. His pace was steady and teasing. Time stood still as he laid back and absorbed. The third finger slipped in easily next to the others, the stretch so much and not enough – Peter’s senses were so overwhelmed, he probably couldn’t have told you his name or address in that moment.

The whispered “I want you across my lap” almost had him undone – Peter’s hand flew to his cock to grip the base tightly.

He let out a sharp moan and tucked his head back against the mattress – his teeth digging into his bottom lip – “fuck, anything, Tony.” And he meant it, too. He dreamed about this so many different times, they probably couldn’t fuck enough to keep up with all the ways Tony could possibly want him. Tony pulled his fingers out lightly, the man pressing a quick kiss to Pete’s lips before he moved enough to sit on the mattress, his back pressed against the headboard of the huge bed. Those calloused hands fumbled a condom down the length of his dick, Tony smiling at him when he caught Pete’s eye.

Peter didn’t waste any time – after he felt Tony was adjusted enough, he opened the cap of the lube and poured a big drizzle of the stuff right on Tony’s cock. The older man moaned – his eyes widening when the coldness of the lube hit his smoldering hot flesh. His hand gripped Tony’s cock and gave it a stroke, the lube cool in his hand – the contrast of it making him shiver. He settled over Tony, the tip of that heavy cock pressed against his opening and Peter couldn’t help it – he sat back without warning, the head breaching first and then the rest of him sliding, sliding, sliding until Peter could feel the base of Tony’s hips. Tony felt amazing inside of him – Peter finally feeling completely full and totally connected with another human being.

The rhythm Peter set came naturally, the younger boy rolling his hips to get adjusted before he started to bounce on Tony’s length – the speed slow to start. Tony’s hands were tight on his hips, the older man pressing in right at the end of his stroke to get as much of his length into Peter as he could. They kept that up for a few minutes, moans and the sweet slap of flesh against flesh the only things heard in the room. Then, Peter adjusted slightly and sat back a little – the movement bringing the tip of Tony’s cock right against his prostate. “Oh god, that’s – fuck,” Peter got out through clenched teeth, the heat in his core no longer simmering, the rolling boil of it starting to come to the lip, threatening to spill over.

“Fuck, Pete. You feel amazing,” Tony murmured, the older man sitting up a little bit more to get a little deeper and to press them even closer together. His lips found the warm skin of Peter’s chest and his hands wrapped tightly around him – hips starting to join the action a little more. Peter felt the clench of Tony’s hands on the skin of his back as his thrusts started to speed up – the younger man sitting back more, letting the thrusts pummel into him hard and deep. By the end, each stroke tapped that spot inside him, the slapping of their skin loud and overwhelming with the way Tony huffed while he thrust and moaned when their bodies came together. The friction of their slick chests squeezing his cock pulled Peter over the edge – Tony’s name shouted from his lips before he went black for a second. Tony kept up his ruthless pace, Peter’s name coming off the other’s lips like a mantra until he too fell over the edge – Peter just able to catch the look on Tony’s face and the way his cum felt pulsing against the walls of his insides.

The come down from this orgasm took a little longer – Peter’s brain frazzled from the three orgasms he pulled from himself throughout the day and Tony’s weight more distracting than it had any right to be. The older man was pressing kisses against whatever skin he could reach, Peter finding himself more grounded with each touch. When he finally blinked away the haze of it all, Tony was looking up at him, one hand still clenched tightly around his middle while the other caressed the side of his cheek. Peter couldn’t help the soft smile that slipped across his lips, the man a fucking vision looking at him like he was – his touches still intoxicating, despite the fact that he was completely spent.

“Wow,” Peter finally managed to mumble, his lips seeking out Tony’s for a sound kiss.

Managing just enough energy to get up off the other man’s lap, Peter collapsed against the comfortable mattress, his body melting into it. He watched with sleepy eyes as Tony got up and disposed of the condom, the man trekking into the bathroom for a minute or two before coming back and joining Pete on the bed. The soft press of a warm washcloth on his skin was surprising but not unwelcome. The simple fact that Tony cared enough to clean him up was exhilarating. Whatever happened after this, at least he knew Tony liked him enough to be good to him – especially after such an intense between them.

It didn’t look like Tony was going to make him leave or anything, so Peter let himself relax into the comfort of the sheets beneath him. The other’s weight surprised him a moment later when he felt Tony shift back onto the bed and gather him close – Peter’s back to Tony’s front, the soft thrum of the arc reactor pressing into his skin. No words were exchanged, the two simply settled down and snuggled up together. Tony pulled the blanket over them both with one hand, then pressed a couple of soft kisses against the back of his neck. Peter let the barely there pulse of the arc reactor and the rise and fall of Tony’s chest lull him to sleep.

If Peter was surprised when he woke up the next morning with Tony Stark spooning him tightly, he didn’t let it show. A small part of him thought Tony might run away like he seemed to do – but the man was still there, snoring peacefully against his neck. Tony actually seemed to be more relaxed now than Peter could ever remember seeing him. His hand moved to grasp onto the warm palm pressing against his chest – Peter slipping his fingers into the gaps of Tony’s to keep the man close. “You’re thinking too loud, Pete,” Tony said into the skin of his neck, the younger man not nearly as sneaky as he thought himself to be. The older man pressed a kiss against his neck and tightened his grip, a sigh leaving his lips. “How do you feel about pancakes?” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle and bring their joint hands to his lips.

After pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s, he nuzzled back and grinned. “Pancakes are my favorite, actually.”

\----

Later that morning, after admittedly way more time than either man usually spent in bed, Tony and Peter made pancakes together. The natural way they fit together hadn’t changed – instead, Peter could feel a different kind of closeness between them. A closeness that only grew the more time they spent together – in the lab, out on the town together, and in bed, though the time spent in bed would probably always be Peter’s favorite.

The next time Peter got the opportunity to post on Spider-Man’s Twitter feed, he snickered when he pressed post – the world probably not ready for the photo they’d just taken. They were on the roof of Stark Tower, Spider-Man’s mask was up just enough to show his lips and the helmet on the Ironman suit was pulled back to see Tony’s face. In the photo they were kissing, Spider-Man’s hand on the meat of Iron Man’s cheek and Iron Man – well, the roundness of that jumpsuit encased ass was the focal point and the glove was cupping it tightly. Pocketing the phone, Peter pulled his mask back down and grinned – this time, when the world saw Spider-Man’s love for Iron Man, it’d be reflected right back.

Tony wrapped the suits arm around his shoulders – the two looking at each other through their masks.

“Come on, Pete – city’s waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around! I had a really fucking fun time writing this - Peter Parker is a precious baby and I can't make Tony mad at him ever, hope you don't mind! 
> 
> This is a stand alone piece, but I've got a little series running - Thunderstruck - check it out if you're interested in some more Starker goodness! 
> 
> I've got lots of muse lately, so if you have a plot you want to see or just want to stop in and say something, leave a comment below. 
> 
> Y'all are the best! 
> 
> Stay classy AO3.


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